Mirror
by madelinear
Summary: Mirror mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?


Mirror  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Satine. Nope.  
Dedication: To Miss Karita, who just told me yesterday I should write, and so I did.  
Author's note: Have I returned?   
Notice: WANTED: ONE GOOD MUSE.  
  
_Mirror, Mirror, on the wall  
Who's the fairest of them all?_  
  
The mirror is the dearest friend and worst enemy of many.  
  
It is cold and unforgiving. It never lies. It doesn't need to. It shows great beauty and great ugliness. It never hides faults or flaws. What was there was what you saw. There is no pretenses.  
  
The mirror grants no favors.   
  
Satine had been a favorite of the mirror since she was young. Granted, the condition of her reflection had changed from a broken shard of mirror to a finely tooled antique 'miroir', but the face had changed little.  
  
She saw in it the same face she always had. The reflection did not know that her life was slowly being torn to shreds before her eyes.  
  
The mirror didn't care. It only saw what was on the outside.  
  
An icy feeling crawled over Satine's skin, and she shuddered. The mirror reflected this action. The mirror saw this.  
  
"What a pretty face," whispered Satine. "Such a pretty, pretty girl." She ran a delicately shaped nail along her jawbone. "Such beautiful features."  
  
Her beauty had been the downfall of many. Men had seen it and fallen prey to a careless woman who deigned not to sheath her greatest weapon.  
  
She picked up the jeweled letter-opener and let the weight settle in her hand. She played with it, running her finger along the blade.  
  
She turned the point towards her lovely, creamy throat, and mockingly ran it over her throat.  
  
"Put some effort into it, Satine," she said drily. "Who will find your throat beautiful if it has jagged scars?"  
  
She smiled. "I hope you're happy, Satine." She said. "You've gotten what you've always wanted. A rich suitor. A chance to be a star. Isn't that what you've always dreamed of? What else do you want from your life?"  
  
The face in the mirror looked back at Satine stoically. It too had no emotion. It was also too weary to put some sign of disgust. All it felt was tired.   
  
"Now, now, Satine, you must be careful!" she admonished the reflection. "Where's the luster in your eyes, the sparkle of your perfect teeth? Come on, girl, work your stock and trade. Dazzle! Act like the damn tinker's monkey you are. They play a little tune, and you dance to it. You always have and you always will."  
  
The mirror said nothing.  
  
"Courtesan." Satine snorted contemptuously. "Harlot. Wench. Tramp. Prostitute. Whore. What a pretty word 'courtesan' is. Isn't it, Satine?"  
  
Satine looked back at her, daring her to go on.  
  
"It's not like he'll marry you, you know." Satine said, taking a brush and starting to rip it through her hair. "He might make you his mistress, maybe even, if you're a good girl, take you to the ballet and the opera every once in a while. But you'll never be the Duchess of whatever he is. Isn't that just your luck?"  
  
Satine in the mirror was beginning to weaken. Her chin was starting to quiver, and her eyes were starting to water. "Oh, come on, Satine. Buck up. You can take it!" Satine said harshly. "Nothing can hurt the Ice Queen. Diamonds don't chip. Grow up, and take it."  
  
A single tear slid down the reflection's face.  
  
"You let him go, didn't you, Satine? YOU did it. Such a pretty face holds nothing behind it, does it? Not very bright, I guess, correct?"  
  
Mirror Satine wiped the tear away, but another fell anyway.  
  
"What? Can you not handle it, Satine? Can you not live without him? Weakling! Pathetic!"  
  
The Satine in the mirror attempted to hold her jaw still, and to breathe normally. She tried to stop her tears.  
  
"Look at yourself. You don't amount to anything. And you never will." Satine moved as close to the mirror as she dared before she hissed, "I hate you."  
  
And then, Satine saw past her own lies and saw what the mirror saw. She saw her own tears and felt the shaking of her jaw. She felt the tightness of her chest- so this is what heartache felt like. She could feel the pressure of tears against her eyelids.  
  
Satine looked at the pretty vase of pretty flowers on her pretty vanity. She saw her pretty face reflected in her pretty mirror in her pretty room. She saw her pretty body in her pretty dress in her pretty life.  
  
And in that very second, 'pretty' became the one thing Satine could not nor ever would be able to tolerate ever again.   
  
And the pretty vase smashed into the pretty mirror, smashing the pretty life into a million pieces.  
  
Satine smiled into the many shards of her face. Her eyes and her mouth and her nose were all in different places.  
  
"Destructive. Nice touch, Satine." Satine looked around. "Well... I never liked this room anyway."  
  
Satine took the ornate headpiece and placed it on her head. She sniffed slightly and wiped away the barest trace of a smudge of kohl from her eyes. She smoothed down the blue material of her skirt, held her head high and stalked out of the room like the queen she was.  
  
The mirror could not see heartbreak, nor jealousy, nor grief. It could not tell elation, it could not relay horror, nor pain, nor anticipation.  
  
The mirror could only see the Ice Queen reflected into its quicksilver depth.   
  
The mirror never lies.  
  
It just never tells the whole truth, either. 


End file.
